


Those Eyes Are Not Mine

by tiny_septic_box_sam



Category: Video Blogging RPF, jacksepticeye
Genre: Gen, Halloween, Horror, Paranormal
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-31
Updated: 2016-10-31
Packaged: 2018-08-28 05:24:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,167
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8433463
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tiny_septic_box_sam/pseuds/tiny_septic_box_sam
Summary: He had a mirror in his room, mostly so he could check his appearance before and during recording sessions, but he’d since covered it up with a sheet. He stared at it now, though it was hard to see in the dim lighting. He’d been standing in front of it, fixing his hair with his fingers before switching on the camera, but instead…his entire reflection had GLITCHED.





	

**Author's Note:**

> So in light of all the Antisepticeye awesomeness bullshit that’s been happening I decided to come out of my hiatus to write a quick one-off to celebrate the spooky season. I kind of just made this up as I went along, so hopefully people like it. Maybe I’ll write a Darkiplier one too?
> 
> (Also as I was finishing this story up my refrigerator started making weird knocking noises and I thought someone was knocking on my windows and I’m home alone so I almost shit my pants so yeah here’s a scary story that took years off my life you’re fucking welcome)

            Jack sat in the middle of his room. The lights were off, the windows were shuttered, and the air was middle-of-winter cold. He could probably chalk that up to shitty Irish October weather if he wanted to, but he’d been turning up the heat all day and it still wasn’t having any effect. He wondered where it was getting siphoned off to.

            There was a reason for all of this madness, he was sure of it. The blackouts, the writing on the walls, the distortions popping up on his T.V. and his computer…he’d been ignoring most of it, because he was no paranormal sucker who was willing to believe everything he saw on those shitty ghost hunter shows, but he’d had a bit of a wake-up call an hour ago.

            Sure, technology could pop and spark and glitch all it wanted, and that could be forgotten…but his reflection in a mirror?

            He had a mirror in his room, mostly so he could check his appearance before and during recording sessions, but he’d since covered it up with a sheet. He stared at it now, though it was hard to see in the dim lighting. He’d been standing in front of it, fixing his hair with his fingers before switching on the camera, but instead…his entire reflection had _glitched_.

            Which sure as fuck didn’t make any sense. He swiveled around in his chair, eyes scanning the surfaces of the walls. How could reflections go distorted and jagged in mirrors? They were only reflective glass. There was no reason for his reflection to suddenly pop and skip and turn into an image of himself with his own hands locked around his neck, fingertips digging into the skin, choking, smiling….

            Feeling stupid, Jack cleared his throat and said aloud, “Is something happening to me?”

            Nothing responded. Jack pressed his hands into his lanky thighs and tried again, a little bit louder, “Is anybody listening to me?”

            Again, there was no response, and Jack closed his eyes and sighed. He felt like an idiot. It was all lack of sleep, probably. He was sure of it. Didn’t people lose some memories when they hadn’t been sleeping?

            But that didn’t explain how he’d lost an entire chunk of time between him getting out of bed and him winding up in the middle of the road last night, his arms hung wide at his sides like he was nailed to a cross. There were no cars out that late, thank God, but what if there had been? He’d only come out of it when his girlfriend had rushed to his side and shook his shoulder, demanding that he come back in. He’d explained it away by saying he was sleepwalking, except he fully remembered getting out of bed to pee.

            Lack of sleep. Lack of sleep, that was all that it was. Jack stood and stretched, swinging his arms to get the blood flowing back into them, and walked towards the door. Fuck this room. Fuck Halloween. He could take his girlfriend out for dinner instead.

            He blinked, and suddenly the sheet he’d covered the mirror with was balled up in his hand, and his nose was inches from the glass, and some sort of painful smile was splitting his face in half and the reflection was clawing at the opposite side of the mirror, leaving angry scratch marks on the glass.

            Jack could feel his own hands grabbing the blanket, and yet his reflection had gone rogue and began tearing away chunks of the glass with its black talons and its sadistic smile, and each tooth was pointed like a breadknife. He staggered away from it, his heart pounding too hard in his throat for him to scream or make any sound at all.

            He grabbed his chair, the sheet lying forgotten on the ground, and held it up in front of him for some sort of flimsy protection. The room felt colder than ever; he could feel his fingertips going numb. He stared horrified at his reflection, which had ceased its scratching and was now staring at him with an almost animalistic interest, and Jack took the opportunity to hold the chair behind him ready to throw.

            His reflection raised its eyebrows, and then the whole picture distorted for a moment, not unlike a T.V. screen suffering a bad connection. When the mirror returned to normal, Jack’s reflection was standing a bit further away, its arms crossed over its chest and its smile as bloodthirsty as ever.

            It opened its mouth. _Ar͠ę you҉ ţry͡ín̛g҉ to ͘th͠rea͘t҉en͏ me,̴ ͞littl̸e ͡boy͏?̛_

            Jack gulped. The reflection had mouthed the words, but he’d heard them inside his own head.

            “Where the ever living _fuck_ did you come from,” Jack asked in a trembling voice, “and how can I send you back?”

            _I ̢com̵e fro͠m̨ ̢a̕ r̵ȩal͢m̷ th̕at ̴y͝oùr͜ ͡ki҉nd ͟ẃil̕l̕ n͏e͏v̨er̀ ͡see, a͏nd I'l҉l ̢be҉ ͟da͝m͏ned͢ i͘f̡ I'͏m͏ ̨goi͠n͏g͡ ba̡ck̵ t͏h͝ere ag҉ai̴n͞.̧_

Jack’s body was as cold as ice. Shivering, he raised his chair and bellowed with courage he didn’t have, “You better stay in that fuckin’ mirror or I’ll kick your ass!”

            _͘͠Tha̢t̷'s t̢h͜é ̶m̶ost ͏ad͜o͘rab̸le thi҉n͘g̕ ̀I've e͟v̴e̕r ḩe͞ąrd̕.̴_

“I’m serious! I—I’ve got a gun! I’ll—”

            _E͟v̷e̴n͡ if͏ y̛o͢ùŕ p̴itifu̢l͠ ̴huma͡ņ weap̷o̸n͡s̀ co̢u͞ld͏ ͟a̧ćţųa̕ll̴y̧ ͘h̸arm̧ m̷e͏,͡ ̨I know yoư'r͘e̛ ̴lyin̨g.̴ ̕I̵'ve ͜b͝eén̴ ͠w̶a̷tc͠hin̨g̕ y҉o̕u͡ ̀for ͏quit̴e some͏ ̵ti̵m̴e, ̕lit͠t͜le on̡e͝.̸ You͝'͞re a̧bo̧ut́ ̸as threa͠t͘e͘nìng̶ ̧as̵ ̸a ma̸yfly._

“You’ve been watching…?” Jack’s voice trailed off, and he could feel his head spinning as his heart beat out of control. The lost time, the strange noises, the frigid weather…but that was ridiculous, wasn’t it?

            The mirror glitched out again, and suddenly Jack’s demonic reflection was standing much closer and to the side, half of its body obscured from view. Half of its smile stretched out to an impossible length.

            _Ap͘oļo̡ǵi̷e̡ś for͜ ţh͜at. I̷ cán on͘ly͢ ̡ho̴l̸d͘ thi͏s͠ ҉f҉or͘m͝ ̧f͟or̨ so҉ ͘lo̡ǹg.̷_

Jack felt as though he were on the verge of tears, but he reared back and cried, “Either you leave me the _fuck_ alone right now, or this chair is going through your skull!”

            _I ̀h͝àv̢e no ̛sku̷l̡l̴.҉ ͢Go͠o͏ḑ ̵l̢ucķ ̸w̴ith ̕th̸a̛t͞.̨_

“Just stay the fuck away from me!”

            _No͡t ҉l͘i̸kel̡y. ̶T̡he t̛im͝e͏ is r̷ight; the ̡s̷tar͞s̛ a͜r͢e ̷fina͢ĺl̴y i͜n͟ ͝posit̨i̕o̧n. ҉I'm͏ ͝n͜ot ͝let̶t̶i̡n̛g͡ ͝my ͡id͢éa̷l ҉h͢os͘t̷ ͡e͞s̀cąp̶e͞ f͘rom͡ m̸e so͝ ̴e̛a͝si͝l͞y.̵_

“Your ideal—?”

            The room tilted suddenly, and Jack fell hard to the side like a drunken man, the chair falling flat on the floor. He reeled, twisting onto his back, just as his stomach began to turn. He coughed, trying to breathe, but his throat felt as though it were slowly being pinched closed.

            _I̵͢ ̨̀̀m̛̕u̡͢st̢̡̀ a̸̡d̢m͡͠it̸ ̴̸th̴̨a̵҉t͘͡ ̡͏t̛h̷̡į̕͘s̨ ̡į́͜s̨ g͏̕o̡̕i̧̧͠n̵̵g ͟͏t̡ò̷ ̷ḩu͞r̛t̵͠͏._

Jack gasped, trying to protest, trying to stand or fight or do _something_ , but the edges of his vision began to blacken and pulsate, and he was only able to turn to the side.

            _B͏u̴̢͠t̡͟ ͏d͟͏o̢ ̢̛n̸͢͠o̧t̷̨҉ be͟ ҉̵͟a͡la͏rm̡e̵ḑ̷̨.̶͏́ I̵'͡l͟l̨ ̸t͜͠r̡͠éa̸t̴͝ ̵̸͟t̕h́i̷ś͞ ̢͢͟bo͏̡ḑ̀y̢ ͏w҉e̴͡l̢͟͢l҉͝.̵͢͝ ̡͘I̡͞t́͞'͞͠҉ş ̷͝s͢͠o̶̧̕ ̴̧͘l̴͝ơ̢͢v͟e͟ly̨̕ ̷͘͘an̶̨͝d̷̕ ̕҉͜p̕ȩ̴r͟͞f̡e̷c̢̡t̴͝._

With a sharp breath, Jack wriggled his body forward, even as the coldness of the room threatened to stiffen him like a board. He could hear his electronics whirring to life behind him, whining and screeching like they were decades old and barely clinging to life.

            _E͏́xc̀͏e̸͘͢p̨t͜ ̵f͡͠or҉ ͠t҉h̸e҉̢ ̛͡͡é̕y̷͟e̵͏ś͞.̷_

Jack reached for the computer chair. One hand closed around an armrest. His muscles were so numb and stiff he almost couldn’t feel the sensation of gripping the leather.

            **_T̕͝ ̶̛͢h͘̕ ͏͢o̶̢̧ ̨͜ś͝ ҉̧͘͠e̢҉̨̡ ̵́͜ ̶́͜͟͝ ̸̴̀͟ ̶͜͡ ҉͞ ̴̧̡͘ę͠ ҉y͝҉ ̢͟e̷͏̵ ̢̕͞ś̷͢ ҉̨̀̕͡ ̵͜͡͞ ҉̴ ͘͟ ̨̀́ ̢̕͏̨͏ ̛͏̵̕a̕͏ ͝r̴̸ ͟͞e̡͘̕̕͝ ̀̀͞ ̢̀͟ ̵̵̸̸͟ ̡̛҉̕͢ ̛͠ ҉̶ ̶̧̛́͘ ̵҉ń̸́͡͞ ̵̵o̵̧̕ ̢͢͠͠t͢͜ ̛́͟ ̶̡́́̕ ̴̸̀͢ ̵̧̕͢͠ ̕͜͡ ̶̢͡ ̧҉m̶͜͝͡ ͏̴͟ì͠҉͞ ̵̨͏̡͘n̵̢ ̧́͢͝ę̴̷͠_**

It was energy that Jack certainly didn’t have to spare, but with a heroic effort, he twisted his body and hurled the chair across the room, clearing about a foot of space and smashing it directly into the mirror.

            The image shattered, spraying in a flurry across the room. Jack curled, protecting his face as shards rained down around him.

            His heart was pounding in his ears. Still feeling sick and short of breath, Jack slowly straightened himself and observed the mess. The chair lay a few inches in front of him, its armrests outstretched towards him almost like a person offering assistance.

            Jack didn’t know what to say. Surely he was dreaming. He coughed and began to sit up, his muscles still shaking like crazy. He hoped his girlfriend was downstairs, because he didn’t feel safe being home alone anymore. He doubted he ever would again.

            Without warning, the leather of the chair split open, and a clawed hand shot forward and encircled Jack’s wrist with a vicelike grip. The skin was as cold as dry ice, and Jack cried out in pain as he tried to rip it away.

            Emerging from the leather was the stuff of nightmares, its mouth as wide and toothy as a werewolf’s, its skin as white and solid as bone. It dug its claws deeper into Jack’s skin, and through the pain of the cold he could feel warm blood dripping across his hand.

            _Dį̷̶ş͟o̢be͟d̕̕ì̕e̢nt ̛͝l͏̢ìt̸t̵̛l̸e͝ s̶͞h͞i̴̡t́_

Jack tried to scream, but the creature’s other hand shoved its hand into his mouth and down his throat, his claws leaving trails of fire on the way down.

            It raised itself up, widening Jack’s jaw until it felt as though his face was going to split in half, and it met Jack’s gaze with eyes as black and viscous as a bottle of ink. Two small, green pinpricks glowed within, and they eyed Jack so hungrily that it felt as though he were being examined all the way to his soul.

            _Į̶̢t͘͢'̴̡s͏́͘ ́̕͟b̷e̢e̶͠n͢ ̡͟f̶ųn,́͝ ͏̴͝M͏͞r.͘͠ ̨͠Ś́͘e̢͟p͞͠t̶͟͠i̴̧c̨ ̀E̷͜y̵e.̧͜ ͟Ţ͜h̢̕ańks̢̀͞ ̶a̸͟g̷a̸̧͘į̷n̸͢͠ ̷f̢͠o͜҉͘r̡̡ ̶t̢͟h̶̛͞e͠ ̵̶̧m͢͡é͜at҉͢҉ ̷̛́şu̧ì͢t҉.̢_

Jack’s jaw was ripped open so wide that he surely would have screamed if he could have. Something fiery and cold and awful slipped down his throat, and black, pulsing vines webbed over his eyes until he could no longer see or feel anything at all.

 

            The door to the recording room burst open, and a blonde female stood in the entryway, her face alight with fear.

            “Jack! Oh God, are you okay? What happened?!”

            Unused to the way this form moved, Anti stood clumsily, blinking and shifting his jaw into place. It was still sore from the abuse it had endured during his entry, but it would heal up and work just fine.

            “Nothing. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you.” Anti crossed the room, his feet crunching on the broken mirror glass, and he pulled the female in for a hug. He’d seen Jack do it dozens of times. “I was playing a game, and I was startled very greatly. I jumped up, and the chair flew back and shattered the mirror.”

            The female backed up a little and eyed the cataclysm behind them. “Must’ve been one helluva jumpscare.”

            Anti nodded, smiling a little. “I’ll clean it up, I promise. Tell me, are you feeling hungry?”

            She frowned, staring at him strangely. “Is everything okay? You’re talking pretty weird.”

            Anti cursed himself for not embodying the character more. Sure, he could look the part all he wanted, but he could never carry out his work if no one _believed_ that he was the man this meat suit belonged to.

            “Yeah, sorry. I haven’t been sleepin’ well. It’s been a long day.” The accent felt ridiculous on his tongue, but he’d get the hang of it sooner or later. The female, at least, seemed to buy his explanation.

            “Yeah, that’s true. I guess I’m a little hungry. What’d you have in mind?”

            Anti shrugged, pulling a bigger smile. “I’ll let you pick. I’m up for anything.”

            She smiled back at him and began walking down the hall. Anti followed her. They passed a bathroom, and he peered through the doorway to check the reflection.

            The body looked normal. The blue irises were a hideous eyesore, but Anti would force himself to get used to them.

            He blinked, and the blue was gone. The sclera turned black as pitch, and he stared at himself with his own eyes, their otherworldly intent glowing for all to see. Anti blinked again and forced himself to return to normal. He’d have to keep a close watch on that.

            “Jack! Are you coming!” the female called from deeper in the house.

            Anti turned quickly away from the mirror. He cupped his hands around his mouth and called, “Yes, just a sec!”

            There. That was better. The body looked great, the mannerisms were easy to fake, and the soul that had inhabited it previously was as silent as a statue. Anti couldn’t keep a smile off his face. This was going to be so much easier than he thought.


End file.
